


The Gardener

by Zip001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Fairy Tales, Fluff, Major character death - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/pseuds/Zip001
Summary: A fairy tale - Aemon the Dragonknight finally saves his lady. Their love is forever.The second chapter was written for the gameofships challenge.Both chapters are gifted to the talented and brilliant darks1st3r.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darks1st3r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darks1st3r/gifts).



> The first chapter was already posted in my Drabble, Dribble, Drazzle, Drozzle story.
> 
> I decided to post this separately to include the second chapter.

He was tiring. Everything hurts - even breathing hurts as he was skewered through his lungs. He could not save her, his sister. Slash. Parry. Block. He must continue to fight until the reinforcements arrive to protect the Royal family, to protect Queen Naerys and their son. Loud footsteps were coming towards him - they finally arrived. Head finally down and relieved, he breathed his last breath.

'I am sorry, my love.'

When his eyes open again, he was in another time but the same place. It seemed that he was always too late - too late to save poor Queen Rhaella (who thought he was a ghost haunting her), Lyanna Stark (who did not believe that she needed to be saved), and Princesses Elia (who was so afraid and distrusting) and poor baby princess Rhaenys.

He worked as a gardener in Red Landing - a seemingly fall from grace from the Dragonknight and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. But he loved the flowers he nurtured, watching them delicately blossom, bloom so boldly and fade until they wither away. His hands, so used to killing, brought life and beauty. 

The other gardeners thought he was odd with his courtly mannerisms and his sweet serenading to the flowers who thrived under his care ("Does he think he is better than us? His shit smells no better than ours!"). But the master gardener (and the one before him) always stepped in to still the discontent, separating him from the other gardeners, and had him personally tend the Queen's garden.

The latest Queen had no love for beauty. She only desired power. He thought he was meant to save Queen Cersei but he soon realized that she created her own pain and the pain of others - her anger and vitriol poisoned those she truly loved until they were more monster than man. She could not be saved.

But the tragic Northern princess, Lady Sansa, should truly be the Queen. He saw her walking sadly through the gardens, and his heart sang to him 'She is the one, the promised one.' There was such grace in her - from her courteous words and her kind actions, even towards little Tommen, a member of the House trying to destroy her House. He could not understand how anyone could not help but love her, want to care for her and protect her. But she was cursed, like the others before her - her betrothed was a depraved monster, wanting to hurt her and make her cry. His heart ached for her.

Remembering her background, he started to sing Northern songs of bravery against all odds and the fierce stark beauty of the Northern lands. They drew her in, like honey to the bees, these reminders of her home. He heard the gentle rustling of her dress as the hem gently brushed against his well trimmed rose bushes.

Calming his racing heart and trying to not frighten her, he greeted her with a short bow.

"My lady, your beauty and grace honors me."

She automatically curtseyed, blushing awkwardly as she did not know who he was, did not understand why a tall, strong knight was dressed like a humble gardener. Her eyes widened as she saw his beautiful violet eyes and silver hair that he pulled back with a simple leather tie. Unlike the others, she seemed to recognize him or at least his resemblance to his famous family.

Sansa whispered, "Targaryen, you are from that House. Are you here to kill us all?" She knew her Houses, knew the horrors the Lannister and Baratheons have inflicted on his house. While she is the daughter and the sister of traitors, she was still betrothed to King Joffrey Baratheon, son of queen dowager Cersei of House Lannister. She shrunk back from him.

He could not help but reach out to her. Lady Sansa reminded him of his sweet sister but she had more steel in her spine and more awareness than his gentle sister. He softly touched her smooth cheek. It had been so many years since he last touched another or been touched by another. She instinctively leaned into his touch.

"Please, my lady," he whispered, "I would not harm you and want to protect you." 

He gently pulled her to a private alcove where the wisteria covered hedges were thick, forming an intimate hiding place. The flowers hung over her head like a crown she should be wearing. He showed her his sword he hid ("Dark Sister," she whispered in awe as she recognized the hilt) and kneeled in front of her, pledging his sword and his life for her, his Queen of Love and Beauty. 

He knew what he next did was wrong when he placed his gardener's cloak over her shoulders, making her his, and he could tell by the way her eyes glistened that she knew what his actions meant. She did not belong to that monster - she deserved all the happiness. In the alcove, he could be her knight, and she his gentle lady. Yet even in their safe place, he never touched or kissed her inappropriately. He kissed chastely her lovely hands, each delicate finger, her beautiful brows to smooth them, and her silky hair, how he adored her hair. Telling her silly stories of his youthful adventures with his sister, she giggled at his antics. But Sansa looked sadly at him when he truly remembered her, his sister, knowing how she died alone without her knight. 

In their secret alcove, time seemed to stand still. But she had to go back or they would be looking for her. It would be worst if they found her, discovering her with him. Growling, he could not let them have her. Covering her red hair with his cloak, he gently laid her on his wheel barrow on the soft straw that he covered her with, making sure she could breath easily. He wheeled her out along with his favorite flowers, the vibrant coral, pink and purple ruffled peonies. They left the gardens and seemed to clear the side gate.

The young guard stopped them and wanted to look into wheelbarrow that seemed to be much heavier than the straw and flowers it carried. Aemon waved a handful of manure in the man's face and explained it also carried this, which he tried to hide the horrible smell with the sweet hay and flowers. The man backed away, cursing at him, and let them proceed.

Years later, they would both regale their children about the Knight of Shit saving the Queen of Straw as he called them (although she would always gently correct him and say that he was the Gardener and she his flower).


	2. As

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first and last chapters of the love story of Aemon, the Gardener, and his Rose, Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Submitted in the gamesofships challenge.
> 
> The title is inspired by Stevie Wonder's song "As", one of my favorite songs, a song of everlasting love. When I hear it, my heart feels so full.

There was a peal of laughter in the shrubs. She wanted him to find her. She loved games, his beautiful and silly and wonderful child wife.

Aemon turned away from the sound and pretended to look up a tall skinny tree, and her giggles grew louder. A flash of red raced by, running towards the fountains. He had to grin, looking at her fly in her silky Lysene gown with her long red hair flowing. She was free, happy and safe. They were lucky to flee Kingslanding and find a generous and kind benefactress, a wealthy Lysene woman who whispered to him that she was once an innocent like Sansa and told him to protect that innocence - she must not be sold, but loved and cherished. Aemon could not agree more.

He laughed as she turned around and sticked her tongue at him. The hunt was on! Instead of taking the marble stairs down the terraced gardens, he leapt down each flight, quickly closing the distance between them. She ran around a tall hedge, even taller than himself, towards the maze; and he slowed down, knowing that there was only one way in and one way out. It was easy to find her as the petals of the flowers that were strewn in her hair fell to the ground, creating a path to her, his love.

As he walked towards her, he picked up the delicate petals of the oleanders and gardenias. Cupping his hands, he sniffed the flower petals, enjoying the sweet fragrance that reminded him of his girl who enjoyed bathing in a warm pool of flowers and sea salts. She was curiously leading him to the center of the maze, to the dead end. Sansa knew the maze even better than him, spending many of her days dancing and singing in the maze as he tended the garden.

As Aemon made the last turn, he expected to see her standing in front him, but there was no one. He was surprised until he turned around and found her jumping out of the hedge, latching herself onto him which made him fall. They were both laughing as she was such tiny sprite in comparison to himself, a Warrior come to life she sometimes whispered in awe when she saw him.

As they lay on the floor with her daintily atop him, he felt all his worries and fears wash away with each of her giggles and sloppy kisses to his face, his neck and his strong chest. Her tiny hands were exploring him, first lightly tracing his temple, cheekbone, lips, down his neck, his bare chest that peeked through the opening of his shirt and then inquisitively down his stomach when he stopped them. Too soon, much too soon!

While she was now a girl of six and ten, she still was so young and each year, he felt that she became even younger and more immature in her temperament than when they first met. Aemon understood that she lost her childlike sense of wonder in King’s Landing and her young soul was harmed. It seemed like her mind was regressing, attempting to repair itself from the horrors and fears she faced in the Red Keep, trying to return back to a time where she was happy, when she was a child, safe and protected. And while he desired his beautiful wife, he sought to protect her and not do her any harm. He would not lay with a child, for that what she was, no matter how her inquisitive touches aroused him.

Slapping his hands away, Sansa indignantly cried, “Why? We are husband and wife - you covered me with your cloak. You made me vows.”

“My sweet girl, you are not ready.”

“I am six and ten, and many women have children at my age. The girls here they tell me that one does not have even have to wait for marriage, nor even until when one bleeds, to enjoy the physical -”

“If those silly chits stick their hands in a bee hive to taste the sweet honey, would you stick your hands in too? What good for them, which is quite debatable in my eyes, may not be good for you and vice versa. You are very young for your age. In Lys, you can live a carefree life and enjoy playing and stealing flowers, sweet fruits, and even sweeter kisses from your gardener.”

“When can you touch me like a husband touches a wife, like a lover touches his love?”

“When you are ready, fully blooming as the flowers in your hair. I will always wait for you.”

Her eyes started to tear, her lips trembling.

“But I do not want to wait…”

———

It was soon time when they could no longer travel along the same path. He knew - she could see it in his sad violet colored eyes, those eyes that were no longer glittering with amusement but instead glistening with tears.

She brushed his tears away from his smooth cheeks. He looked exactly like the day they first met in the garden, so strong, so handsome, so solid. Her other hand playfully touched his strong chest and stomach, feeling his hard muscles and how they tensed at her gentle touch; and she giggled as she still felt that bubble of heat inside her, as she touched her man and felt her power over him.

He grabbed her errant hand that was moving further down and kissed it. He kissed each knuckle, then each finger tip, gently nibbling and licking.

“You are such a vixen, a minx,” he huskily whispered.

Though she was much changed, no longer the innocent and sad girl of four and ten but instead an elderly woman about to meet the Stranger, he seemed to still desire her so - his only concession to her age is that he was more gentle with her and that there were even more cuddles. His cuddles were the best - he was always warm, a furnace she would say and he would cheekily respond that he only burned for her.

“Am I the death of you?” she asked. She had to ask - he oft said it in jest until they discovered that he would not age (he thought he would start to age since he found his one but the gods were cruel). She knew that their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren and so forth needed him.

Head down, he quietly said, “You are my life… I do not know if I can go on without…”

“What did you say about the winter roses you planted for me, my love?”

“That they pale in comparison to you,” he replied.

Sansa snorted and laughed until she started coughing. It hurt to breathe.

Catching her wheezing breath, she whispered, “That you love all the stages of rose from bud, first bloom, showy blossoms to fading… You said that _the rose grows entirely unaware, changing naturally from one state to another and although the elements may treat her cruelly, she knows nothing of it and continues to her end without judgement on her beauty_ … No, that is not quite right.”

Sansa wished that she was that rose, but she knew that was not true. There was vanity in her, each line on her face, each pound she gained from their babes she was not able to lose, each such sign of aging saddens her as people started to think she was his mother and then grandmother, not his wife. She tried to shy or hide herself away from him, no longer willing to lay with him in the harsh morning light and only lay with him at night when there was no moon in sight. But he would not let her, fiercely whispering how beautiful she was to him and how much he desired her.

In fact, they were more passionate then when they first met. At first, they were friends, telling silly stories with him chasing her around. She was so very young. Even their first time was so frantic, him so afraid of hurting her and her so nervous about not pleasing him. He treated her like if she was a delicate porcelain doll. It was later, years into their marriage and after their first two babes, that she found the courage to urge him, egg him to set a harder and faster pace, that they both enjoyed. He loved her kisses and her roving hands, especially when she grabbed his round bottom with both hands, pushing him into her.

He always laughed that it was always that way. She would lead, the fluttering of her eyes, her secret smiles, and her pretty blushes; and he would follow. Her touch would be followed by his. Her kiss, his kiss. Her pleasure, then his, and then hers again.

“Nay, that is not correct as your beauty has not faded, my Rose.”

“You always flatter me-”

“I only speak the truth - in my eyes, there is no one lovelier.”

“Not even Cat?” she teased.

Cat, their only daughter, was Aemon’s princess - she could do no wrong. She was the ringleader of all sorts of mischief she and her younger brothers got into to. Aemon would tease that she was so like her mother. But she thought Cat was so like her sister Arya, so strong willed and so full of life.

“Cat is beautiful girl, but you are loveliest, my only one, my love.”

“Cat needs you although she would not admit it. She misses you. Our boys, now men, need you too. Promise me, Aemon, promise me that you will be there for them.”

“Stay with me please, my sweet Rose.”

Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and labored.

“Promise me, Aemon, if you ever love me,” she whispered.

“I will, my love.”

She smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in italics from the movie “A Little Chaos.”


End file.
